


lay with me

by frogstack



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: (mentioned very briefly), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Trans Nico di Angelo, aka i dont care i just want boys to snuggle, jasico culture: ignoring post-BoO and also like half of BoO, that's the universe this takes place in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogstack/pseuds/frogstack
Summary: Five (or so) times Nico shares a bed with Jason.





	lay with me

The first time Nico shares a bed with Jason Grace, it isn’t even technically a bed. 

It’s a hastily assembled heap of mismatched blankets, tossed haphazardly in what remains of their tent after a sneak attack from a surprisingly stealthy Hydra. Percy quips as they set it up that, at least with the massive acid-burned holes in the roof, they’ll be able to see the stars at night. It isn’t the state of the tent that Nico minds, though, so much as the fact that Percy insists upon taking overnight watch by himself. 

“Are you sure, man?” Jason had asked, with an eyebrow raised and his lips turned down at the corners.

He had been genuinely concerned for a friend— in his typical Jason fashion— but Nico could also tell he’d been itching for some of the action he missed out on before. Jason had shown up, arms overflowing with firewood, just as the monster had gone up in Greek flames. Nico had been averse to sleep himself, as he’d gotten plenty that morning after an overshot shadow-travel jump.

Percy is unyielding, though, and two of them find themselves seated in the dilapidated tent that evening despite their objections. Jason’s glasses inch down towards the tip of his nose as he hunches over, brows knit tightly in the middle while he ties dry gauze around an acid burn on Nico’s right shoulder. He’s close enough that Nico can see the gold glint of his individual eyelashes. 

“You don’t need to do this, you know,” he says, turning away to look up through one of the openings in the tent. 

Nico knows that Jason knows the wound doesn’t necessarily warrant wrapping, but it gives them both something to do, something to stay awake for while they listen outside for the sound of any movement besides Percy’s sneakers crunching the leaves in the forest nearby. 

“I know you said it doesn’t hurt, but it could still get infected,”Jason says. He settles his palm on Nico’s bare arm once he finishes tying the gauze.

“So could that, then,” Nico says with an eyebrow quirked. He gestures towards a day-old scrape on Jason’s knee.

He snorts, earning a twitch from just one corner of Nico’s mouth. His hand lifts from Nico’s bicep into a shrug, leaving behind a tingling sort of warmth that Nico rolls his shoulders to shake off. “You can wrap that up if you want, too. Wouldn’t want to worry you.”

Nico rolls his eyes and falls back onto the blankets, arms folded across his chest. 

Jason stays seated, smiling over at him in an absent-minded sort of way that Nico can’t quite read. “Guess you’re not too concerned about my well-being, then.” 

“Shut up, Grace.” 

He shuts his eyes, but feels the shifting of the blankets next to him a few seconds later as Jason settles down. He peers over for just a moment to see that there’s a comfortable distance of two feet or so between them, which he appreciates. He closes his eyes again, honing in completely on the sounds of the woods around them, but wonders if Jason is looking up at the stars.

“It wouldn’t hurt to sleep, you know,” Jason says, breaching the comfortable silence Nico had begun to settle in.

“I said I wasn’t tired before. Resting my eyes should do just fine.” 

“I know. Me neither. But you know Percy won’t ask for our help either way, and it’s not like the monsters will give us a break tomorrow.”

Nico juts his lip out, eyes squeezing shut even tighter. He wishes Jason didn’t have to be so reasonable; he was also, increasingly, wishing he hadn’t volunteered for a quest with two other children of the Big Three. 

“You won’t try to sleep even if I do,” he says, a hint of accusation in his tone.

More shifting in the blankets besides him, and Jason’s voice sounds closer to his ear when he speaks again. “What if I promise I will?”

Nico opens one eye. “Promise, then.”

Even in the moonless dark, Jason’s smile is all but blinding. He slides off his glasses, folding them before reaching behind himself to set them on the tent floor. “I promise to sleep with— sleep when you do.” 

Nico pretends not to have heard him falter; he closes his eye and rolls onto his side before he can think too long about why Jason felt the need to adjust his wording. He’s content with the promise, though, knowing Jason isn’t one to deceive. 

“Goodnight, then,” he murmurs, partially into a blanket he’s pulled close to his chin. 

“Goodnight,” Jason echoes. Nico feels him shift again as some of the blankets are tugged in the opposite direction. 

He listens to the world outside first, tuned in to the rhythm of the cricket chirps and owl hoots, awaiting some sort of disturbance; to his overly active brain, the shifting of the autumn leaves on the forest floor could be the work of wind spirits, the roaring of a motorcycle from the nearest highway the battle cry of an approaching beast. Eventually his attention centers in on Jason’s breathing next to him, slow and steady, five second inhales, six second exhales— too slow, too calculated, he realizes, for his quest companion to actually be asleep. He follows that pattern of breath, so similar to his own, with his eyes open and trained on a corner of the tent until Percy comes to trade off his watch three hours later.

— — — 

The second time is Jason’s fault.

They’re both seated, legs crossed, on Jason’s bunk in Cabin One, hunched over the new, glossy limited-edition set of Mythomagic cards Nico had received in a gift-wrapped package from Camp Jupiter that morning. He isn’t sure if Frank or Hazel meant it as some sort of practical joke— he’d avoided giving any indication he had even _thought_ about the game in the past four years— but either way, Nico is determined to get some use out of the birthday present, and Jason is surprisingly eager to join him. 

“So I want the ones with the highest attack points, then?” Jason asks, chin in hand, the scar on his lip curving as he frowns down at the cards Nico has laid out between them. 

“Not necessarily,” Nico says, barely repressing an exasperated sigh. “It’s strategic, just like a real battle, so you don’t want to just load up on attack. You can’t compensate for a lack of defense, or healing, by piling on a bunch of strong attackers. And then you have to think about the cards with special abilities, so, like, even if I had all these—”

He’s holding up an assortment of cards when he notices the look on Jason’s face and lowers them, mildly exasperated. “What?” 

It’s not that he’s not used to Jason’s smile by now, as odd as someone so frequently directing one at him is. The Fall and Winter at Camp-Half Blood have been mostly theirs to grow comfortable with one another, as other campers have been in and out or absent altogether with school or other obligations. Jason’s expression only vexes him now because of the timing; Nico doesn’t think he’s said or done anything all that amusing. Yet he’s still smiling at him, grin wide and frosty blue eyes trained on Nico’s face as if he has food smeared all over it.

“You’re a dork,” Jason answers, smile only fading when Nico frowns in response. 

He leans forward in a hurry, holding his hands out to hover just above Nico’s tensed shoulders. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m just sorry you haven’t really had anyone to play with. You obviously like this game a lot, and it’s...dorky. In a definitely-not-bad way.”

Nico feels his worry gradually fall away, his shoulders relaxing down along with it. He feels warm in his ears and cheeks despite the January cold— in a definitely-not-bad way. 

“Yeah, well,” he manages, “this all coming from the guy who has his T-shirt tucked into his jeans.” 

Jason lets out a hearty laugh that Nico can’t help but return with a smile of his own. His hand comes down to clap Nico on the shoulder. “Fair point. How about...I go to the bathroom, and when I come back, I give you my full attention so we can be dorks together?”

“Deal.” 

Nico lets himself fall onto his back as Jason exits the cabin, shuffling through the cards and rethinking his teaching approach. Jason might learn better by practicing himself, he thinks, shifting through three of his cards in a repetitive motion over his head… His eyes grow heavy, and at some point, he feels his hands loosen their grip.

 

When he opens his eyes, there’s an extra weight on him, and, more confusingly, someone or something climbing over him.

“What?” he mutters, still blinking himself awake. He tries to recall where he is, or when he even fell unconscious; he certainly doesn’t remember wanting to sleep.

“Sorry, sorry,” says the figure that had lifted itself over him a moment before, which Nico is only now recognizing as Jason. “I’m just sitting down. You can go back to sleep.”

Nico props himself up on one elbow and rubs at his eyes with his free hand. A few mythomagic cards tumble off his chest. “No, I was gonna teach you,” he remembers.

“It’s okay. The cards and I will both be here when you wake up again.” 

He’s awake enough now to see that Jason is smiling down at him, his hands folded in his lap. In a lapse of emotional restraint, Nico imagines resting his head there, having those hands brush through his hair. 

He turns away and closes his eyes again, hoping his face isn’t as warm as it feels. It’s not like his hair is brush-able as of now, anyway. 

“Did you put this blanket on me?”

“Mhm. It’s chilly in here. You can take it off if you don’t need it.”

Nico grunts in response, curling a fist in the blanket. It is chilly, he decides, his shoulders relaxing into the mattress. Half-conscious, he feels one of Jason’s hands brush across his forehead as he collects the fallen Mythomagic cards around his head.

“Sorry,” he whispers, “don’t want them getting crumpled.”

“Uh,” Nico manages in reply. 

And when he wakes again, Jason and the cards are, as promised, still there.

— — — 

On one of the first warm nights of Spring, Nico wakes up to the sound of screams. He struggles past the churning in his own stomach, the fog in his head and the vague flashes of dark reds, pitch black, stiff air stinging his skin, the pulsating floor of Tartarus, the rhythm pounding through his skull—

He presses his hands to his head, inhales for five seconds, exhales for six. He knows how to handle this by now, knows that he’s at camp and not _there_ , but then why does he hear screaming, and why is there a gaping fissure in the floor of his cabin? 

Stumbling, he makes his way to the window and opens his blackout curtains; there are a number of people gathered outside in pajamas, but it’s still dark out, and he can’t make out any of their faces. Thoughts still overcrowding his brain, it occurs to him that he should look for his sword, something must have attacked, and no one outside looks armed… 

“Nico.” 

He blinks, trying to locate the source of the voice, to figure out whether it’s even real. He’s looking at the floor, and realizes that somehow, he’s made it back to the side of his bed. His knees, clad in loose black sweatpants, are buried in a jumble of sheets on his floor. He’s more alert now, eyes adjusting to the familiar surroundings of the Hades cabin in the dark, but the fissure is still there. Something scratches up and down his arms relentlessly. 

“Nico, hey,” the voice says again, closer now. “Look at me.”

Once his head is lifted, he recognizes the figure standing before him immediately, though he’s not all too used to seeing him in a bathrobe. He locks onto his piercing blue eyes, desperate for something familiar, but something is wrong there, too; underneath his reassuring smile, his open body language, there’s a trace of something else, a sort of hesitation in the way he holds his arms out from his body. His gaze doesn’t connect with Nico’s like it usually does. It’s almost like he’s afraid. 

“Jason,” Nico says, the coarseness of his own voice surprising him. “You have to— There’s something— must have come out of that. Are you okay?” 

Jason’s jaw softens, the cautiousness in his face fading into a frown. “Oh, Nico.”

He lowers himself on the floor next to Nico, tentatively, keeping a few feet between them. Nico can’t understand why he’s so calm, why he’s moving so slowly when he doesn’t even have his sword on him. Then again, he can’t understand why he hasn’t moved, either, and why there’s still something scratching at his arms.

“You should stop, you’ll hurt yourself,” Jason says, extending a hand before drawing it back again. “Is it okay if I touch you right now?” 

Nico freezes and the scratching stops; he glances down to see his own jagged nails, coated in chipped black nail polish, buried in his arms near his elbows, fresh scratches that haven’t quite broken skin trailing behind them. He pries his hands from himself. When he looks up again, he isn’t sure how much time has passed since Jason last spoke, but he’s lowered his hands entirely and looks at Nico with his eyebrows knit. 

“It’s okay,” Nico says, finally, in a voice that still doesn’t sound quite like his own, “but we have to go help the others.” 

Jason worries at his lip, and extends his arms again to take hold of both of Nico’s hands. “Nico, nothing is attacking.” 

Nico wonders if he’s gripping Jason’s hands too tightly. He cocks his head towards the fissure in the ground. “But _that_ —”

“Was you, I’m pretty sure.”

The pieces start to connect— the screaming, his own confusion, the dream he’d been having before. He looks down at his lap, heat rising to his face. His hands stiffen in Jason’s.

“This isn’t...I can handle myself.” 

“I know,” Jason says, infuriatingly calm as he rubs circles into the back of Nico’s hands with his thumbs. “And I know what dreams can be like. Not yours, necessarily, but...I’ve electrocuted myself in my sleep plenty of times.” 

Nico glances up at him through his eyelashes, head still bowed slightly. “You’re joking.” 

“I’m not.” There’s a trace of a smile in the corners of his mouth. 

Nico searches his eyes for a moment, finding only sincerity and not the slightest bit of judgement. He sighs, releasing some tension in his shoulders he hadn’t realized he was holding. His hands loosen their grip on Jason’s but he doesn’t let go; the point of physical contact is reassuring, stabilizing. 

“That’s the second time I’ve completely desecrated the ground at this camp.” 

“Worry about it tomorrow,” Jason says, and then continues, in a lighter tone, “I mean, it’s your own cabin.”

Nico lets out a huff of air. “Yeah. And I just got done redecorating.”

Jason’s smile widens, and he resumes massaging the back of Nico’s hands. They sit comfortably in the silence for a few moments before Nico starts to draw his hands back. 

“You can go back to your cabin now. I— thanks. For staying.”

He stands up, but Jason remains seated on the floor, his hands still upturned in his lap like they’re waiting to take hold of Nico’s again. 

“I can stay longer,” he says, gaze locked on Nico.

“I don’t want to keep you awake.”

Jason tilts his head. “I don’t have to be.” 

Nico freezes in place, processing the statement for a moment. He looks at Jason, then at his unmade bed, and back. Jason scratches at the mussed hair at the back of his neck, and then slowly starts to stand.

“I just mean...it might be easier for you to sleep with someone else here. I could make sure you don’t explode your floor again,” he says, shrugging, “but it’s up to you.” 

Not quite sure how to respond, Nico starts gathering the sheets on his floor— it gives him something to do that doesn’t involve eye contact with Jason, for the moment. He’s painstakingly aware of Jason still standing behind him as he makes the bed, silently tucking the skull-patterned fitted sheet under the mattress and leaving most of his other linens in their heap. 

He rearranges his pillows, his brain replaying every meddlesome thought he’s had about sharing a bed with Jason— like the night in the tent last autumn, only without the space between them or Percy patrolling a few yards away, and he knows he shouldn’t ask him to stay, because any reason Jason has for wanting to sleep here can’t be the same as any of his own—

“I can go, if you’re okay alone. I just want you to be comfortable,” Jason says, one foot already backing towards the door.

And the third time they share a bed, lying flat on their backs with their arms pressed together and one of Jason’s hands brushing along Nico’s bicep until they both slip into dream-free unconsciousness, the fault is entirely Nico’s.

— — — 

The fourth time, not a week later, Jason asks.

They walk back to the cabins from the bonfire together after Piper and Leo wander off; Piper, eyes flitting between the two of them, says something about “giving Jason some space.” Nico is comfortable considering the old crew of the Argo II his friends now, but that doesn’t mean they always make the most sense to him. 

“What?” Nico wonders aloud as Leo jogs off after Piper.

“‘What’ what?” 

From what he can see in the dark, Jason is smiling over at him, but his fingers are drumming restlessly against the sides of his legs. 

“The ‘giving you some space’ thing. Are you okay?” 

Jason lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cough, and moves his hands to clasp in front of his chest as he walks. “Yeah, I’m good, Piper’s just being…” He sighs and then bats the air with one hand. “You know.”

“Uh, sure.” 

Nico most certainly does not know, but decides to leave the issue alone for the time being; as open as they are with each other, Jason is either fine, as he says, or preoccupied with something that isn’t Nico’s business. 

They walk a little further along, and Jason can’t seem to decide whether he wants his hands in his pockets or not. Every couple of seconds, he hooks and unhooks his thumbs from his jeans. Nico must be walking a little too close, because Jason’s knuckles also keep brushing against the back of his hand. The fourth or fifth time, he feels electricity shoot up his arm— literally. 

“Sorry!” Jason says, jumping back a foot.

“It’s fine,” Nico says, though he wonders what’s agitated Jason enough to have him shooting off sparks. “I bumped into you.”

“No, I…” he starts, then glances ahead of them. Nico notes that his face is bathed in green torchlight; they’ve come upon Cabin Thirteen. Jason turns to him again, a crease forming between his eyebrows. He pushes up his glasses, though they don’t seem to need any adjusting. “Are you headed off to bed? Here?”

“I was planning on it. Where else would I sleep?”

Jason looks as though he’s trying to swallow a sizeable rock. His restless hands move back towards his pockets, and he clears his throat. “In Cabin One, maybe. If you want.”

“What?” Nico’s voice is more clipped than he intends. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m just offering,” Jason says, already backpedaling. Nico can swear he sees his shoulders sink. 

He can only imagine the expression on his own face, and his brain is churning with other thoughts that are making it difficult to worry about that in the first place. He’s not _stupid_ , and if context is any indication, Jason is asking him to share a bed as well as a cabin, which doesn’t make sense, because the only time it’s happened has been a special circumstance to say the least— a week ago, Jason had only been concerned about comforting him.

“Do you...think I can’t handle my own nightmares?” He blurts out, perhaps against his better judgement, but he doesn’t want Jason’s concern for him to turn into a coddle-fest. He risks eye contact, wringing his hands in front of his chest.

Jason’s eyebrows look like they’re going to shoot straight up off his head, and his jaw falls open for a second before he responds. “No! It’s not that at all, Nico, I know the other night was...a one-off thing. I trust that you can deal with your nightmares just fine.”

“Why would you offer, then? To try and... take care of me, or whatever this is—”

“For me,” Jason says abruptly, his voice lower as another camper passes on the way back to their cabin. The red in his ears is visible even in the murky light of the torches. “I get dreams a lot, too, and I’m sure I’m not as good at keeping them in check. I felt a little better...you know, having someone— having you there.” 

Nico’s head— along with his fingers, and toes, and everything else— feels fuzzy, like his bones are trying to rattle out of his body. He might be staring, and Jason is still just standing there, swinging his hands at his sides like _Nico’s_ making _him_ nervous, like he’s the one who just said he liked sharing a bed. With him. Specifically. 

“Alright,” he manages eventually, the word catching in his throat. 

Jason perks up, actually bouncing up onto his toes. “Alright?” 

“I suppose,” Nico says, just barely keeping his voice level. “Lead the way.”

Though he obviously knows where the Zeus cabin is, he follows Jason, who can’t seem to stop glancing back over his shoulder at him. Nico finds it frustratingly endearing, and opts to look down at the backs of Jason’s white sneakers. He looks up only to survey the area for passerby before stepping inside— not that he _cares_ what other campers might think. 

When Nico walks in, Jason is holding up a pair of blue flannel pajama pants that look far past Nico-sized. “You can borrow these, if you’d like. Might not be quite your size, though.” 

He shrugs, almost smiling. “They look more comfortable than jeans.”

His hands are a little shaky, he realizes, when he reaches out to take the pants, and he merely clutches them to his chest for a moment. He and Jason look at each other in a sort of apprehensive stand-off.

“Oh,” he says eventually, “I can change over in that corner, and you can take this one. Just tell me when it’s okay to turn around.” 

Nico feels oddly at ease, considering he’s changing in a space that isn’t his. Still, he wriggles out of his binder and back into his black t-shirt about as quickly as he can before slipping into the pants, which drag past his feet until he double-rolls up the waistband. 

“I’m done,” he says.

He turns, and Jason emerges from behind a column, wearing a matching pair of pajama pants, but in orange. Nico snorts, and points when Jason raises his eyebrow.

“Oh,” he says, grinning and taking a seat on his bed and patting the spot next to him, “sorry. They were a value pack.” 

Nico sits down, arms folded over his chest and legs crossed next to Jason’s, which are stretched out towards the end of the bed. He watches him wipe his glasses clean on his shirt before setting them on a ledge above their heads. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Jason meets his eyes and smiles; it takes every ounce of his willpower not to turn away.

“Do you want to lie down? I could sleep now.” 

Nico nods, but doesn’t let himself recline into the mattress until Jason does so first. Hyper-aware of the marginal distance between them, he turns away from him on his side— and grimaces when he finds himself making near-direct eye contact with the cabin’s Zeus statue. After a few seconds of attempting to keep his eyes squeezed shut and Zeus’s glare out of his thoughts, he decides he likes Jason’s face better and slowly rolls himself over. 

Jason’s eyes are searching, his limbs carefully tucked as to not make contact with any of Nico’s. “You can get comfortable however you need. That includes leaving.” 

Somehow, the consideration solidifies Nico’s resolve to stay. 

“No,” he mutters, shifting his head to rest on Jason’s shoulder. 

He thinks he feels Jason’s breath hitch in his throat. His skin brushes against Nico’s forehead where his shirt collar ends— he’s warm, and Nico is close enough to smell the camp-issued laundry detergent from his t-shirt. Curious, he glances up at him the best he can through his eyelashes. He’s not surprised to find him looking back. 

“Nico?”

“Mhm?”

“Is it okay if I put my arm around you?” His voice is just above a whisper. 

“Yes.” 

Nico curls closer to his side, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability— or a couple hours, or, he thinks... maybe even a few more nights. It feels good to be close to someone, to fall asleep with the reassurance of something warm next to him; it feels even better to have that something be someone so important to him. 

Jason winds his arm around Nico’s waist and gently brushes his thumb along his side. Nico can feel Jason’s heartbeat under his own palm, feel the rhythm of his breath in the movements of his shoulder. It has to be at least ten minutes until he speaks again— Nico half-wonders if he dreams it.

“Nico.” Jason’s voice is even quieter than before, and somehow more delicate. Nico feels the scar on his lip brush against his hairline. 

He just barely hums in reply.

“Thank you.”

— — — 

When Nico wakes up on a February morning over two years later, curled up on a queen-sized mattress under four layers of blankets and one layer of boyfriend, it’s long past the fifth time he’s shared a bed with Jason Grace.

He lost track around fifteen or so, around the time it stopped being an invitation and the routine of his nightly shadow-apparition in Cabin One was only broken on the nights Jason stayed with him in Thirteen. 

“Want coffee?” Jason mutters next to his ear, brushing tangled dark curls back from his forehead. Nico can already smell it brewing from their tiny kitchen down the hall, and wonders how Jason managed to get so comfortably back into their blanket nest without waking him up. 

He grumbles in response, tugging Jason’s arms tighter around himself and hugging his hands to his chest. Jason laughs, tickling the hair at the base of his neck. He plants a row of kisses there, slowly trailing up towards Nico’s ear.

“Shh. Asleep,” he grunts. 

“Didn’t say anything. Is that a no on the coffee?” 

“No coffee.” 

“I’ll just go get mine, then.” 

That earns a more potent groan from Nico, and he bends his legs back further to secure them around one of Jason’s calves. “Stay here.”

A pause, and then Jason twines the fingers of both their hands together. “Okay. Five minutes.”

Nico is content with that. He gradually begins to unravel himself from the blankets, registering the sounds of noisy passerby and garbage collection trucks outside the window, and then, eyes opening, the sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. He attempts to stretch out his legs and meets resistance— a lump of long grey fur that hisses and leaps of the bed when he taps it with his foot. He mutters a “sorry, Bones,” and extends his legs the rest of the way before falling quiet, settling back into the calm of the morning. 

Jason stays quiet, too, but he hasn’t fallen back asleep either; his hands eventually let go of Nico’s and brush lazily through his hair, across his shoulders, down the scars on his arm, coming to settle on his midriff. Nico allows himself another moment to breathe in the smell of their sheets before turning over. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and meets Jason’s, hands falling to rest on the sides of his neck. 

“How about that coffee?” Jason asks.

“Maybe...hot chocolate?” 

Jason leans over to kiss his forehead, a tangible smile on his lips. “We can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> slowly dipping my feet back in the fic-writing pool, so thank you so much for choosing to read this!! cannot believe this is the first jasico thing i've published when i've loved them as much as i do for 4+ years.


End file.
